Beautifully Forbidden
by NoobianRose
Summary: Obidala! Set between TPM and AOTC. A time of crisis on Naboo brings ObiWan and Padme together again. While there, they forge a bond that will last for the rest of their lives.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: My name is not George (or Lucas for that matter). Therefore, I do not own the Star Wars universe. I'm just having a bit of fun playing around in it:-)

A/N: This is the very first story that I have had the courage to post. I want to say a big "**THANK YOU**" to Ticklesivory for giving me the confidence to share my work. I welcome any reviews, but please don't flame (especially if you're just doing it because you don't like Obidala). Thanks so much and please enjoy!

(Another) A/N: Some of the dalogue, mostly later on, was inspiredby Colleen McCullough's "The Thorn Birds." and it is rated the way it is for a later chapter. You'll be safe for the time being!

* * *

It was six years after the Battle of Naboo. 

Though the Trade Federation had lost their control of the lush planet, many were still angry. These unhappy few had resorted to domestic terrorism to affect change in global policy. It was now feared that the Federation may have a hand in the attacks. For many months terrorists had been targeting the Noobian population in the hope of aiding their cause; or, quite probably, the cause of their employers.

Padmé Amidala, reigning queen of Naboo during the battle with the Trade Federation, had since become a Galactic Senator for her planet. In a desperate bid to make sense of the chaos that had erupted in Naboo's cities, the new Queen had called the Senator back. It was the monarch's hope that Amidala may be able to lend some kind of guidance on the terrorist attacks.

Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi had also been called to Naboo. The Jedi Council had decided that because of his personal knowledge of and participation in the Battle of Naboo he would be the right person to aid the Queen with the conflict. He was to be the official representative of the Republic.

Even as his Jedi Starfighter hovered over the lush, green forests of Naboo, Obi-Wan had his doubts. He was unsure about his decision to leave Couruscant. It was a pivotal time in the training of his Padawan, Anakin. And his student didn't seem happy at all that his Master was to undertake this particular mission without him. But this was not a decision for either of them to make. As Jedi, they were bound to abide by the word of the Council. _This will be the most difficult lesson for Anakin to learn_, Obi-Wan thought to himself with a chuckle.

The small ship landed on the docking pad with a heavy _woosh_ sound, as the power to its engines was cut. Having barely placed one foot on the ground he was greeted by an official Noobian representative and immediately shuffled into the Palace of Theed. High marble walls, grand upright pillars, and the beautiful antique elegance that was the Noobian capital greeted him. It was truly a sight to behold, one of which the Jedi had many fond memories.

Queen Shalla had only recently been elected to lead the Noobian people. She had large shoes to fill as she entered the office, following one of the most popular rulers in recent memory, Queen Amidala. It was her youth and inexperience that had brought all of them together this day. A strong ruler, Shalla had no idea how to handle a situation of this nature. Luckily, though, she was not above asking those around her, or at her disposal, for advice on how best to proceed.

The entrance to the throne room was blocked by a large pressure door. And, in front of that, an even more impressive security device was standing watch. Captain Panaka was an imposing figure and had been the head of the Queen's Royal Bodyguards even before Amidala's rule.

Throughout the whole of their battle for Naboo, Obi-Wan had come to greatly respect the Captain. He was efficient, strong, and had an incredible tactical mind. All were very good qualities for the head of monarchal security to possess. Beyond that, he was a genuinely nice guy (despite the fierce front he tended to put up while on duty). Though he did not get to know him very well in their former collaboration, the Jedi was happy to see a familiar face.

For his part, Captain Panaka seemed equally pleased to see the Jedi, though it took him a moment to recognize him as the former Padawan. Gone was the long braid and ponytail that had marked Obi-Wan's status within the Jedi Order. Though his hair was not as long as his master Qui-Gon's by any means, it had just enough length to allow him to comb it back out of his face.

With a warm smile and a nod Panaka led Obi-Wan into the Queen's throne room. From there he was led by one of the queen's handmaidens to the last empty seat that flanked the figurehead on each side. Looking up, his gentle blue-green eyes met vibrant chocolate brown ones.

Padmé Amidala looked back at him, a surprised smile gracing her delicate features. Though she had been Queen when she first met him and proper decorum must be maintained, she had still been fourteen. No title that the galaxy could give would ever be able to stop adolescence from taking its toll on her.

Through their short time spent together, she had developed a huge crush on the Padawan. Luckily she had covered it well. And though it had faded with their parting six years ago, she was now suddenly aware once again of just why she used to fantasize about him.

Boyish good looks met civilized and elegant maturity within him. His hair was a bit lighter and longer but his eyes still pierced the soul. She had always loved his hands, strong and larger than her own, which he now rested on the armrests of his seat.

If truth be told, the Jedi was equally surprised. Though he knew that she was also being consulted on this issue, the mere sight of her threw him for a loop. Even six years ago, when he first met her, she had been beautiful. Before he knew she was the real Queen, when she was still in disguise as a handmaiden, something had captivated him about her. It was not difficult to sense her inner strength and recognize her outward beauty, Jedi or not.

But she had only been a child then, disregarded by the _Padawan_ who was still focused on his training and his mission. Now, as he gazed forward, he was struck by her. Having become the _Jedi_ it was impossible to ignore how much _more _beautiful Padmé had grown. The beauty that lay in her now came from the grace and poise of maturity. _She is no longer a child_, he thought to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Much of the briefing went by in a blur. It was clear early on that this new terrorist threat on Naboo had no connection to their earlier conflict with the Trade Federation. Obi-Wan had quickly realized that his presence was less a matter of actively offering help to the Naboo and more to assure the planetary government of continued Republic and Jedi support. The Jedi would be of little help after this meeting.

Padmé, on the other hand, was still needed. She was experienced in governing the planet. And though she would not be making any of the vital decisions, the people still trusted her. Her presence would go a long way in stemming some of the paranoia existing in Theed due to the terrorism. And, if this group was acting out of opposition to the new government, the knowledge that their former Queen (as popular as she was) was on the planet working with the new Queen may give them faith. A little faith could go a long way toward cessation of hostilities.

On his way out of the throne room, Obi-Wan gave his respects to Queen Shalla, and assured her of his continued presence through the week. Their conversation was formal and brief. But as they spoke, the Jedi felt a strong, single presence moving across the room to stand behind him. He could feel her eyes on him, and it made him uneasy. A voice within told him that speaking with Senator Amidala may not be the wisest thing to do. And Obi-Wan Kenobi was not one to ignore his instincts.

He was glad to meet Captain Panaka once again at the door. And, luckily, Panaka offered to guide him personally to the residence halls of the palace. Though Obi-Wan had been in Theed Palace before, the layout of the building seemed to now escape him for some reason. He could think of nothing but those deep brown eyes as he coldly had muttered a formal greeting and fled the throne room.

Had he taken the time to glance over his shoulder, he would have seen Senator Amidala as she stood alone, surrounded by a sea of Noobian representatives, a hurt and confused look on her face.

With three main rooms, Obi-Wan's guest quarters were more like a small apartment than a room for one person. It was grand indeed. Through the front door, there was a charming sitting area. Off to the right was a large master bedroom. And branching from that was a bathroom and a dressing area equipped with a spacious closet. Marble sculptures and artworks, created by Noobian artists no doubt, decorated the room and added a feeling of opulence reminiscent of the palace itself

Alone in the sitting room, Obi-Wan stood in front of the large bay window that opened to the Noobian landscape. Though the sun had set some time ago, he could still hear the sound of the waterfalls that surrounded the capital.

Having successfully avoided Padmé that afternoon, as well as that evening, he now pondered the logic of his actions. Why didn't he want to talk to her? _And now,_ he chastised himself, _why am I not being _mindful_ of my own feelings?_ The answer was clear. He was attracted to her; and that could be dangerous if he were not careful.

Despite the feeling that he had done the right thing for everyone involved, the Jedi went to sleep that night feeling quite unhappy. He had obviously avoided her, practically running out at the end of the briefing and declining the Queen's invitation for dinner. And how had his obvious absence made Padmé feel? The Senator was far from stupid and it wouldn't take much thought to realize that his nonappearance was intentional.

It was clear that an apology was in order. Though just how he would explain himself, while remaining honest to them both, was a problem that would have to be dealt with later.

The Jedi woke suddenly from a deep sleep. There was something wrong, he could feel it. Though what it was, he couldn't be sure. Wearing only his tan Jedi leggings he bolted out of bed and headed for the door to his quarters, pausing just long enough to force pull his lightsaber into his waiting hand.

The door opened and, catlike, Obi-Wan entered the large marble hallway. Though the darkness surrounded him, he could almost see as he reached out with his senses. Through the Force he felt for the source of the disturbance. Bare feet met the plush red carpet as he stalked toward another room in the residential part of Theed's royal palace.

Leaning into the door he listened with his ears and the Force. He sensed only one person in the room beyond, a person in deep discomfort. What other dangers could be within were unknown. The Force in his fingertips, he slowly unlocked and opened the door, Jedi weapon at the ready.

Obi-Wan began to see shapes emerge, as his eyes became accustomed to the darkness. Gingerly, he entered a room that looked quite similar to his own and his sensitive ears picked up the sound of muffled cries coming from the bedroom. In the bed a lone figure thrashed about and wept uncontrollably.

The person, what looked like a woman, was clearly in the throes of a violent nightmare. He approached slowly, unable to stop his feet. This woman was in pain and, now that he had already broken into her quarters, the _Jedi_ would attempt to aid in any way possible.

Each step taken toward the figure, which was now completely tangled in the silken sheets, brought him closer to the pain and fear that had woken him only minutes earlier. There was something oddly familiar about this woman and it was not until the Jedi reached her side that he understood why. The heart within his chest began to pound as the realization hit him. It was Padmé. Kneeling at her bedside he reached out to her, touching her face with his hand.

The Force-inspired touch did nothing to slow her violent movements however; in fact it seemed to intensify them. Obi-Wan moved to sit on the bed beside her and cupped the other side of her face with his free hand, attempting again to calm her using the Force. "Padmé," he urged, "Padmé can you hear me?" his voice gaining in volume and intensity.

Suddenly, her eyelids snapped open, eyes darting around the room frantically. Where was she? Where had she _been_? Padmé's hot tears fell over the strong hands that held her gently. A figure, shadowy at first, began to emerge next to her; the only point of sanity in the chaos that she had only just left behind. Fear, bewilderment, and pain were written on her lovely face and as Padmé's breathing slowed, she focused completely on the figure. "Are you alright Padmé?" a kind and familiar voice asked.

_How did he know?_ She wondered silently to herself. _How did he know I needed him?_ At the moment, however, it didn't really matter. "Oh Obi-Wan!" her voice came as a harsh, pained whisper. Breaking his hold on her face, Padmé rose and melted into the Jedi's warm, bare chest. Her sobs began again, though, mercifully, less violently this time.

With hesitation, strong arms held her close and gentle hands caressed the ivory silk covering her back. He had been somewhat startled by her action, but he wanted to help her, he _needed_ to hold her. She could feel his calm and soothing voice within her as he spoke, "What happened, Padmé? Was it a nightmare?"

She lifted her head to look at him with red eyes and a tear-stained face, "I guess so – I mean I don't know what it was," she began slowly, "It felt too real to be a nightmare. I – I've never experienced anything like it." Fear once again fell upon her face as she desperately searched his eyes for an answer.

"It's alright," he whispered, "tell me."

Padmé shut her eyes, seeming to reach into her memories in an attempt to summon the nightmare. "I don't remember anything specific. It was just feelings . . . images. There was great pain. And sadness. Waves of orange, and fire. Someone was screaming, they were heart-broken. There were two men fighting a terrible battle, with one another. They were surrounded by fire. I . . . I felt their heartbreak and I couldn't stop it. I was helpless."

A cool breeze made the sheer drape on the window flutter and filled the room with the smell of exotic flowers. Resting her head again on his chest, she took a deep breath, "This isn't the first time it's happened . . . What do you think it means?"

There was a long pause as Obi-Wan turned her words over in his head, "It may not _mean_ anything Padmé. It may be nothing more than a nightmare . . . Or you could be gaining some insight into events that have yet to take place."

"The future? I thought only Jedi have that power."

"It is not unheard of for a non-Force user to tap into it's power. Though it is rare . . . But don't worry. It is often when we attempt to change the future that we aid our visions in becoming reality," He explained.

Obi-Wan continued to hold her, rocking her gently back and forth. As she opened her mouth to speak again, he hushed her, "Don't think about it any more. It's over . . . Here. Why don't you try to get some sleep? If you need me, I'm just down the hall."

Gently, the Jedi Knight lowered her head to rest once more on the pillow. Looking down at her for several long seconds, he brushed away the remaining tears from her cheeks. Something held him in his place. How could he leave her? Did he want to? _Well, you certainly can't remain _here _can you _Master _Kenobi?_, he chastised himself. Decision made for him, long ago when he joined the order, he turned to leave.

Though he found know that there was something holding him. Not his desire to remain, but a small hand had reached out to him. "Please – I need . . . Please stay with me." Though her voice was calm, almost seductive, her eyes begged him to heed her request.

There, in that darkened room with the breeze fluttering in, a terrible battle was fought. The great Jedi Knight argued with himself. He wanted to stay, wanted to help her, but he knew that he shouldn't. "Padmé," he began, "I – I don't . . ."

"Don't leave me Obi-Wan. I need a friend, nothing more."

_It isn't what you _need_ that worries me,_ he mused, _it's what you might _want_ . . . and I'm afraid that I may not be able to refuse you. _ Try as he might, though, he lost his battle. It was true, he couldn't refuse her. His will dissolved, he pulled back the covers of her bed and slid in to lie next to her. She cuddled up to the warmth of his chest and quickly fell asleep.

Obi-Wan listened to her breathing, the warm air tickling his strong chest as she exhaled.

He saw nothing, the room was pitch black, save for a patch of moonlight streaming through the tall windows on either side of the bed.

As he inhaled deeply, her unique sent filled his nostrils and clouded his mind, so powerful he could almost _taste_ her. It was a smell he remembered from years before: Noobian roses and waterfalls.

Arms firmly around her small waist, hands gently stroking her back to lull her into the deepest of sleeps, he marveled at her physical being: the soft skin of her arms, the feminine curves under the silk of a nightgown.

And with his sixth sense, the Jedi felt her very essence, the spirit within.

_I have a bad feeling about this, _he thought, _This could be most dangerous. Such actions . . . such _feelings_ are forbidden. I just wish she weren't so beautiful._


	3. Chapter 3

Sunlight poured through the sheer white fabric that covered the windows in Padmé's quarters. Slowly, the Senator opened her eyes and took in the world around her. Noobian songbirds, green in color with vibrant purple under the wings, serenaded her from just outside the window. It startled her somewhat to feel someone lying with her in the bed.

_Obi-Wan and I have changed positions slightly_, she noticed. They both lay on their sides, the Jedi's chest tightly pressed against the Senator's back, his arms still around her. _Gods_, she chuckled, _if anyone were to see us like this! I can't imagine what they would think!_

Looking behind her quickly, Padmé considered the man lying next to her. He would never know what his presence the night before had meant to her. He was so kind and, despite the power he possessed in his physical and spiritual being, so very gentle. _After he avoided me yesterday I had no idea we would be in bed together!_ She teased herself.

That reminded her! Why _had_ he taken such pains to avoid her? The politician closed her eyes and did what she was trained since childhood to do. It was true that the Jedi possessed great power tied to the Force, but Padmé had skills of her own. She was well known in the Senate, though she had only been recently appointed, for her ability to dissect a problem and come up with a logical answer.

She remembered first seeing him the day before. There had been something in his eyes, apart from the sheer surprise of seeing an old acquaintance. It was just a flicker, short and quick. In any other man, Padmé would have recognized it as desire, a physical lust. And when she asked him to stay with her, she saw it again. But in a Jedi? _That's out there even for _you

Mad or not, it would go a long way in explaining his behavior. If he were attracted to her on a physical level, he may feel threatened. Lust was dangerous for a Jedi as it could lead away from the Order and to the Dark Side.

Slowly, careful not to wake him, she slid out of the bed.

It had not taken Obi-Wan long to fall asleep after Padmé. And only a heavenly scent in the room was enough to wake him. Opening his eyes he realized quite suddenly that Padmé was no longer lying with him.

"Good morning Obi-Wan," she greeted, a breakfast tray in her hands.

She was a vision, bathed in sunlight, and he couldn't help but stare. Her ivory silk nightgown was covered, though not by much, by a peach silk robe. Tied at the waist, it hugged her every curve as if she had been born in it. Long brown hair with golden, sun-inspired highlights fell in ringlets around her shoulders.

Though she was more dressed than she had been all night, she felt naked, and a flush crept up her chest and to her cheeks. The Jedi looked at her with admiration, like a goddess. And behind the eyes? Again, she felt something else, but shrugged it off quickly as nothing more than her crush coming back to haunt her, insinuating things that just weren't there.

Padmé walked toward the bed gracefully and set the tray down on Obi-Wan's lap. "Here you go Master Kenobi. Your breakfast!" she said with a large smile.

"That's very kind M'Lady, but it wasn't necessary," he offered, returning her smile. Jedi are trained to be able to miss a meal or to if the need should arise, their bodies can handle such stress. But this didn't stop the hunger and, having missed dinner the night before to avoid her, he was grateful for the spread before him.

"I know. I just wanted to thank you for staying with me last night. Your presence was soothing Obi-Wan and . . . just what I needed."

"It was my pleasure." The words were genuine, but his smile began to fade. "Padmé --," he began.

"Is there something amiss with the breakfast Obi-Wan?"

"On no!" he said quickly, "The meal is lovely. I just . . . I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I don't know why I avoided you the way I did. And, it was wrong."

Had he sensed her earlier confusion? Had he suspected her _own_ suspicions regarding his actions? She was mortified but, to her credit, hid it well.

The _Senator_ laughed; a harsh, false laugh that sounded foreign to her ears. "Please don't concern yourself Master Kenobi. I certainly didn't. I – uh . . . I didn't feel 'avoided.'"

Her words sounded hollow. Though Obi-Wan was grateful for Padmé's attempt to lighten the situation, her lie made him feel even worse. He _had_ hurt her, deeply.

When the Jedi tried again to approach the subject, he was immediately silenced by her delicate voice. "Enjoy, my friend. If you'll excuse me for a moment, I must slip into something _less_ comfortable. I have an audience with Queen Shalla within the hour."

Obi-Wan watched her walk into an adjoining room. As the door slid shut behind her, concealing her small frame, pain and guilt ate at his heart.


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of Obi-Wan's week spent on Naboo rolled by without incident. Even the terrorists seemed to have taken a break. Diplomats and government officials had become tourists, Theed transforming into a relaxing retreat. The weather was mild, skies clear, and the air was fresh.

For her part, Senator Padmé Amidala was having a difficult time concentrating on politics. She was able to give the Queen advice on how best to act, but thank the gods she wasn't making the decisions herself. Her mind was clouded. Though she had seen him infrequently since bringing him breakfast, he was in her every thought.

His image filled her eyes, his voice was music her longing ears, and the memory of his touch, his deep embrace, warmed her soul.

Suddenly she was painfully aware of her attraction. He had somehow ignited a fire within her. A spark he placed six years ago had, in just one week, grown to a bonfire. It was probably best that she hadn't seen more of him.

In the small amount of time they had had together through the week, each had come to regard the other as a friend. They were more than acquaintances, more than fellow soldiers. In the small exchanges shared during formal dinners with the Queen or in passing, there had grown mutual respect, compassion, and genuine affection.

But there was something else that lay beneath those socially acceptable feelings. For both Senator and Jedi there existed an insatiable sexual attraction. Each time eyes of deep, seductive brown met vibrant, Force-filled blue-green, a palpable energy shot between them.

But there was only one problem. She was a Senator, a well respected representative of the Republic. And he was a Jedi Knight, who had sworn his life to protect, keep peace in, and uphold that very same Republic. Keeping the status-quo was imperative. For each to do their sworn duty to the best of their ability there was no room for romance.

It was this mutual understanding that forced the pair to keep a respectful distance from one another. They knew that to pursue a relationship would be hopeless. Each accepted the deep friendship that had been forged, and pushed aside their mutual attraction.

_I'm just fooling myself,_ she would think, _He's a Jedi, He's incapable of feeling . . . anything for me._

_I have to stop thinking about her!_ He would chastise himself, _I am a Jedi and there is no possible way for me to be her lover too . . . Not without serious consequences._

For his last dinner on Naboo, Queen Shalla had gone above and beyond. The ruler had invited all of the major dignitaries that were on-world to a feast in the Jedi's honor. Even Gungan leader Boss Nass, whom Obi-Wan had not seen for many years, was in attendance and gave the Jedi a huge, rib-crushing hug upon his arrival.

Just as the Council had sent one of their most prominent Knights to Naboo as a sign of faith and support, so the Queen had decided to give this grand meal to do likewise. And though he had not really done anything to help the Queen with her current problems, he was nonetheless touched by her gift.

All of the Queen's guests were seated around a long rectangular table which had been set with white and gold dinnerware that shined brilliantly in the candlelight that was the sole lighting in the room. The palace servants brought out each plate individually and happily kept all wine glasses full.

To be quite honest, Noobian cuisine was far _too_ good. Obi-Wan easily became quite fond of its varied flavors and sensations. Different types of foods native to the planet elicited a different chemical response in the body. Where one kind would make the eater feel tingly, another would make them feel warm and fuzzy. Perhaps the most amazing thing was that these responses did nothing to diminish one's mental faculties. It was pleasant to say the very least. In fact, there wasn't much about this world that he found he _didn't_ like. Apart from the food, the environment was serene and welcoming, and the company was . . . ideal.

Looking up from his plate, he searched the long table for her. Though she was sitting down at the other end, it was clear that she had sensed his gaze on her, her eyes rose to meet his, a warm smile on her lips. "Hi," she mouthed. He gave her a gentle nod and went back to his plate.

Dinner went by without incident; thanks, in part, to the never-ending supply of wine. All were in amiable moods. There was no talk of politics or terrorism. Quite the opposite in fact, there were copious amounts of praise for government. More than one toast, including a very kind and diplomatic one from Queen Shalla, were directed to Obi-Wan and the Jedi Order. Many also celebrated the good deeds of Chancellor Palpatine, a Noobian himself and former Galactic Senator.

Little could be heard over the commotion of so many voices conversing at the same time. But everyone could hear Padmé's giggle, clear as a bell, harmonious music rising above the din. At least that is what it sounded like to Obi-Wan Kenobi. She looked absolutely stunning this night, lit solely by the candlelight illuminating the palace's Great Hall. She was clearly enjoying this party and, for some reason, it pleased him to no end to see _her_ so pleased.

Golden brown hair, again in the ringlets he so loved, was pulled back from the sides, affixed and adorned with pink Noobian roses, and allowed to flow down her back. A choker of small Noobian jewels, also delicate pink, was wrapped around her neck. The sheer, flowing fabric of her gown faded from that same pink down to dark burgundy, the color of wine. It was off the shoulder and cut low, separated at the waist by a silver metal band and flared out at the bottom with the aid of a small hoop.

But it was her face, an image that so intrigued him when he was still just a Padawan, which was the essence of her beauty. Dark grey and brown shadow with black liner around the rims made her eyes hard to resist; and he was tempted to lose himself. Her lips, stained with burgundy, made him long for something that he never had before, something that he knew he could never have.

She was beautifully forbidden.

It was true, Padmé _was_ enjoying herself. Because of the position she had so recently held in Naboo's government she was on friendly terms with everyone. And it was immediately clear that everyone looked on her as a friend as well. She was truly radiant and securely in her element. But this was not the only reason for her mirth this night.

Though she would have denied it to anyone had they asked, the Noobian Senator went to great lengths to look her best tonight. She told herself that it was to impress all the dignitaries but there was only one dignitary she was interested in impressing. It was not an attempt at seduction, just the very personal need to look beautiful . . . only for him.

Though, truth be told, he almost missed seeing her. Had she taken much longer to get everything right (dress chosen, makeup done, hair styled, and correct accessories chosen to match), the doors to the Great Hall would have been sealed and Naboo's most prominent Senator, denied entrance.

Frequently stealing glances down the table at the man being honored, she suddenly realized, with some sadness, that this may be one of her last chances to spend time with him. And here they were, separated by an entire table of chatty dignitaries. It was only by chance that they were both asked to aid the Queen in the first place. Only another chance of fate would bring them together again.

The Senator was brought out of her musing by Sio Bibble, still advisor to the Queen, who apparently knew a funny joke that began "So, two Hutts slither into a Cantina . . . " Politely laughing at the end, despite the fact that she hadn't found humor in the quip at all, Padmé eagerly looked back at Obi-Wan's seat. She found it empty. The Jedi was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: The Star Wars universe and the characters in it _still_ don't belong to me . . . except for Queen Shalla, I guess she's mine.

A/N: This is where it starts to get a bit sexy . . . this chapter and the next one. So be prepared! Hehe:-) Also, I deeply thank those of you who took the time to review. Your words filled me with happiness and the confidence to continue!

* * *

Expressing much, forced, regret to the Queen she excused herself from the dinner. It was rather odd that the guest of honor should jump up and leave in such a hurry. Maybe there was some kind of emergency. Or perhaps the exotic Noobian food had been too much for him and he was feeling ill. If either were true, he would probably head for his quarters.

She approached the door to his room with caution. From behind the barrier, two sounds reached her ears. There were muffled grunts and the familiar hum of a lightsaber. _That _can't _be good!_ Her heart began to beat faster, thudding in her ears, making her light-headed.

A delicate, trembling hand reached up to finger the button which would open the door. Did she dare? How would he feel about her coming into his room unannounced and uninvited? Against her better judgment, she pressed it.

With the large curtains drawn, the spacious sitting area was completely dark . . . except for one thing.

A line of solid blue pierced the darkness, swaying and arcing, seemingly floating in mid-air. That first impression would be dashed upon closer inspection, however. If one were to look closely at the area around the light, small glimpses of tan fabric, a boot, or eyes locked in concentration could be seen.

Padmé tried to melt into the door as it closed behind her. She didn't want to disturb him, though what it was she would be interrupting still remained a mystery. The vibrant blue of the Jedi weapon had her hypnotized. She watched, spellbound, as it fought an invisible enemy.

So perfect was its attack that it was quite easy to forget about the living being that was wielding the instrument. The Jedi was one with his weapon, dancing to music that Padmé could not hear. His feet glided across the carpeted floor almost totally silent, and his movements were fluid, like water.

Obi-Wan had sensed her entrance but so deeply tied was he to this moment, he could not stop. And so he let her watch as he released the frustration and confusion that had been building in him for a week.

The speed of his movements increased and Padmé watched in awe. The light of blue spun, thrust, and arced so quickly that instead of one single light, all she could see was a large blue blur, looking almost like the sky itself. It was amazingly beautiful; beautiful and, Padmé reminded herself, quite deadly.

The power of his movements was almost frightening, and somehow familiar. Six years ago she remembered watching a security recording that had been taken deep in the bowels of Theed Palace, in the Generator Room.

A blade of red had overpowered one of green. And an anguished cry from a young man, forced to watch as his father was slain in front of him, broke her heart. The shield dropped and blue met red in a flurry of motion and power, light against dark. Even though the end would come as no surprise, she had been frightened. But amazed and intrigued also, at the skill and power that had existed within the Jedi Padawan.

And here, in this room, she watched him again. Her eyes having now adjusted somewhat to the darkness circling her, she could see his form more clearly, devoid of his heavy, dark brown outer-robe. Light tan fabric clung tightly to his beautiful Jedi physique, thanks to the sweat he had worked up. Padmé could see clearly the strength of his body as his muscles rippled and flexed with each swing of his weapon.

As his breathing increased with the exertion so did hers. There was something incredibly erotic in watching him like this. Seeing his mouth, open slightly, breathing in and out made her long to kiss him. His body, moving gracefully, rhythmically made her imagine . . . something she shouldn't. The desire within her surfaced, and her body throbbed, making her shiver.

The routine seemed to reach its climax and, without warning, the light vanished. There, in the darkness, she could hear the sound of deep, heavy breathing. But after a time, even that stopped. There was no light in the room and now, no sound.

Clinging to the door, her back plastered firmly against it, she could only hope that Obi-Wan had not sensed her presence. _Right Padmé, a _Jedi_ not feel your presence! Who are you kidding?_

_Now what?_, she thought to herself in frustration. There were only two real options. She could run; right out the door, knowing that he would certainly be able to catch her. Or she could just face the fact that she had entered the room without permission and call out to him. Thankfully, or perhaps not, she was saved the burden of choice by a deep, whispered voice next to her ear.

"Is there something I can do for you M'Lady?" Obi-Wan asked, still slightly out of breath.

His voice in her ear, his hot breath on her neck, sent shivers down her spine. She could barely respond to the question posed. When her voice was found, it came quietly, like a whisper, "I'm sorry to disturb you Master Kenobi. I – I um noticed that you had left the dinner and just wanted to make sure that . . . you were alright."

"Crowds are sometimes a bit much for me," he responded. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, a tangible reminder of their close proximity to one another. And each word he spoke could be felt in her core, making her weak in the knees. "I made my excuses to Queen Shalla if you were worried."

Without warning, Obi-Wan took her hand in his own, his thumb gently rubbing the skin of her palm. "There is no need for you to lurk in the shadows Padmé."

He led her slowly into what she assumed to be the center of the sitting room. Leaving her for only a moment, Obi-Wan moved to draw back the heavy curtains of his windows. Gradually, soft moonlight began to filter into the room, revealing plush furniture and ornate Noobian works of art.

The Knight was struck once again by Padmé's beauty as she stood before him. Seeing her by candlelight at the dinner party, he imagined that he would never again see anything so lovely. But that was before he saw her in the moonlight. It seemed to somehow highlight her form and figure and make her eyes darker and even more seductive.

_Blast!_ Why hadn't he turned her away? Perhaps it was because he could sense that there was another, less respectable, reason for her presence here tonight, one she wished to keep locked away in her mind . . .

_This _has_ to stop!_ He had to stop looking at her like this, like a goddess. They were friends. And that is all they ever could be! He was not willing to give up the Order . . . not even for her. Though the sex act itself may not be forbidden, attachment certainly was. And Obi-Wan Kenobi was not the kind of man who could engage in such an act and _not_ become attached.

Walking to her, his resolve stiffened, he nonchalantly wiped the sweat from his brow. He addressed her now with an impeccable degree of formality, "I appreciate your concern M'Lady. But as you can see, I am quite well."

For many moments she did nothing but look at him, attempting to gauge the meaning behind his words. Though his voice remained strong, and his style was formal, his eyes betrayed him. It was difficult to see, his face only half exposed by the moonlight, but those shining blue-green orbs left him open and vulnerable to her penetrating gaze.

Tonight, those eyes held not the brightness of his Force-filled spirit, but something darker. It was that same look he had unknowingly given her earlier: desire. But there was something else there too. Was it sadness? Or guilt? Or both?

Padmé didn't have to be a Jedi to sense this. Nor did she have to be a genius to put the pieces together. In fact, she had done so already on Obi-Wan's second day on Naboo. But she had pushed her thoughts away then. To entertain them would only allow her fantasies room to run in her mind. And _that_ would only have gotten her into trouble.

Though, as she had just discovered, they ran where they pleased regardless.

Never before had a non-Force user been able to see through him the way she could. Scrutinizing him as she did now, with those beautifully disarming eyes, he knew that all secrets, all desires were laid bare. This woman saw the truth that he continued to deny even to himself.

How had it come to this? For the whole of his life he had never been tempted by the beauty of a woman. The Code had been his life and the Order, his family. Because he had known nothing else, he had missed nothing. But now, he was painfully aware of how different his life could have been.

Obi-Wan's heart ached to love her. His body longed to please her. But he couldn't, and it was tearing him apart. Being a Jedi had taken him to all parts of the galaxy and placed him in the company of the most beautiful women. None of them had made him feel the way Padmé did. What was it about _this_ woman that tugged at him so?

Her voice, simple and strong, brought him out of his thoughts, "_Are_ you 'well' Obi-Wan? It doesn't look that way to me." Padmé reached up and stroked his cheek gently, "Tell me, Jedi. Who were you in here fighting?"

Eyes of blue-green fell to the floor; he could not find his voice to answer her. Nor did he need to. The answer was clear to them both. The Jedi, accustomed to fighting the tangible enemies without, had spent the evening battling the demons within.

"Padmé," he began quietly, "I care about you very much . . . much more than I should."

She continued to caress his face, committing every centimeter of his profile to her memory. Moving her other hand to rest on his warm chest, Padmé felt the rough fabric of his Jedi robes, a symbol of his life's commitment. "I know you can't give up the Force for me Obi-Wan . . . any more than I could give up the Senate for you. You can feel that we're both meant for something more. And we can't let love get in the way."

Without a word, his strong arms went around her, holding her near. Obi-Wan was so grateful. Finally, he understood. He shared a deep bond with this woman, one that he was only beginning to understand. When she had needed him, his first night on Naboo, he had felt it and went to her. Now, as his mind and thoughts were clouded, she was here to tell him the truth and understand.

"Where does that leave us Padmé?" he whispered.

"We've both been left here to fight our demons Obi-Wan. At this moment in time we are here together. No Senate, no Jedi Council . . . just the two of us."

She was afraid; afraid of his reaction, of rejection. But she would never have another chance like this one . . . neither of them would. And so, to show him her heart, for the sake of them both, she did something she knew Obi-Wan would never have been able to.

Pulling his head toward hers, Padmé captured his lips in a deep, passionate kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

It was the first kiss that either of them had ever really had. Padmé's work in politics had begun at a very young age. And though there had been boys she liked, there was never enough time for her to discover the beauty that could lie in such a simple action as this one.

It was the same for Obi-Wan. For the whole of his life he had one commitment. Learning the Code and becoming a Jedi had absolutely nothing to do with kissing or girls. He, therefore, paid them no mind.

Obi-Wan took his lips from hers, ending their perfect moment. It wasn't as if she was surprised, simply disappointed. In fact, part of her would have been shocked had he _not_ pulled away. With a sad smile her eyes fell to his chest; the last thing she wanted him to see were the tears that had begun to gather. Despite the pain, she would respect his decision.

Silently, he tilted her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. Looking at her then, having just felt the magic of her kiss, he knew what he wanted. At such a moment with Padmé in his arms, nothing else mattered. Obi-Wan wanted _her_, and needed nothing else.

Obi-Wan leaned in, his lips perfectly poised to whisper in her ear. "Close your eyes Padmé," he purred. She obeyed immediately and felt him move behind her. They were maddeningly close. So near, with their bodies pressed together, the fire within burned ever brighter.

Though she couldn't see him, she could feel the heat of his body as his firm chest pressed against her back. Heartbeats quickened and breaths became shallow as the anticipation began to build.

Obi-Wan's sudden touch took her by surprise. Gently, he pushed the silken tendrils of hair aside. Then, he removed the studded choker from her neck, exposing the soft porcelain flesh of her neck and shoulders. His warm breath on her skin caused her to inhale sharply. She longed to feel his lips, the caress of his tongue . . . but it did not come.

He tormented her. His moist lips brushing against her delicate skin. Breathing slowly, nose nuzzling lightly, Obi-Wan traced the lines of her flesh. He was so close, yet so far, still unattainable. He paid equal attention to Padmé's back, shoulders, and neck; it was pure torture . . . and she loved every moment.

Through the Force, the Jedi could feel her growing desire. It was all he could do to keep composure, to remain in control of the situation and not lose himself in the moment. She was so warm, so real, her skin was so soft, and her scent made him crazy. That unique smell that he had always known, but only recently rediscovered: Noobian roses and waterfalls.

The Senator slowly faded, being replaced by the woman within. Her eyes still closed, Padmé was forced to feel, forced to experience. She was compelled to succumb to his sweet seduction. Strong, powerful hands, trained in combat, settled on feminine hips. They restricted her movement, pressing her even closer to him.

As warm lips finally met soft, searing flesh a moan escaped her mouth. Obi-Wan left a trail of hot, slow kisses up and down her neck. Reaching up to him, Padmé pulled his head even closer, longing for him to devour her with his roaming mouth. Her other hand pressed against his, holding him close.

But he was not content to remain in one place, though he loved the feel of her skin against his. His hands moved up, brushing her sides. He lingered at her waist and abdomen, coming to rest on the fabric that covered her breasts.

He massaged her slowly and deeply, careful not to cause too much pain. The sensation began to overwhelm her, heat radiating from within and the throbbing that had started in her core quickening. Padmé sighed and, before she could contain herself, moaned his name in pleasure.

Hearing his name from her swollen, wine-colored lips pleased him. Her touch, the slender fingers in his hair, electrified him. He continued to rub her, feeling her nipples harden under his hands. It excited him to know that his actions caused such passion within her.

She had almost lost consciousness, giving herself to sensation when, suddenly his kisses ceased. Padmé heaved a frustrated sigh. Moving his mouth to her ear he whispered, "M'Lady. You are usually dressed most suitably for every occasion." He nibbled her earlobe and continued, "At the moment, however, you seem to be somewhat _over_dressed . . . don't you think?"

He had moved, she no longer felt the pressure of his chest at her back. There was hesitation, neither sure of the next move to be made. Padmé was ready and just as she began to give voice to her concession, the elegant evening-gown she wore unhooked itself and slowly slid down her small frame.

Through the depth of their bond, Obi-Wan had sensed her readiness, her need. And with his gift, he had taken matters into his own hands . . . so to speak. Gentle Force-touches, like a warm breeze, helped her undergarments fall free of her body, just as it had her pink and burgundy gown.

As a last touch, her hair fell free of its tie, liberating the roses that had been contained with it also. Without a sound, silky petals of pink hit the floor at Padmé's feet.

She turned to face him and he breathed very deeply. As a Jedi Padawan, Obi-Wan had studied anatomy and physiology. He had seen the female form and had admired it in works of art. But this was different. Never before had he seen the form as a work of art in and of itself.

It was liberating, standing there before him. Because there was no way to hide under the clothes of her office, there was no _reason_ to hide. She met his eyes with pride and confidence, watching with delight the range of emotions playing across his chiseled features.

Up till now, the Jedi had been in control; which is just where he preferred to be. But as she approached him with a singular grace and poise, he felt that control slip. The game had changed.

Their bodies were pressed together once again. Her full lips parted, ever so slightly, drawing his full attention to her mouth. Padmé's kiss was, at first, feather light. Suddenly, it became more urgent, her lips pressing against his with more intensity. Obi-Wan opened his to her and their tongues met.

They pulled each other deeper: him caressing her bare back, her hands tangled in his thick hair. There was an intense heat radiating next to her inner thigh and she felt him grow. Without thinking, relying on instinct, Padmé lifted her knee to meet him. The Jedi growled hungrily into her mouth as she began to press against his erection gently.

Breaking their kiss, her knee continued to massage him, turning his world upside-down. "I have accepted your suggestion regarding my formal attire Master Kenobi," she said breathlessly, "I would think you would do me the same courtesy."

Obi-Wan gave her a sexy, knowing smile that made her weak in the knees. Stepping back from her, he began to slowly shed the last symbol of his _own_ station. Inner robes of light tan, leggings of the same color and brown boots fell to the floor. She watched him undress, reveling in the sight of his toned Jedi physique. Padmé drank in his image and, like any good drink, it made her feel light-headed and free.

With little interlude, they crashed into one another: their kisses intense, hands demanding, and souls open. The Lady clung to the neck of her Knight as if her very life depended on the contact. Suddenly, she was effortlessly lifted from the ground, his full erection sliding between her legs and brushing against her clit.

She moaned in pleasure and rocked her hips against him, trying to prolong the contact. But she could stand no more. "Enough," she breathed desperately, "No more games Obi-Wan."

Still holding her in his strong arms, he walked them both to his bed. Slowly, she was laid down, plush white satin bedding cradling her soft, feminine curves. Padmé's skin almost glowed as the moonlight came in through the window, reflecting on the tiny beads of sweat that had sprouted.

He was amazed by her. Not just by the body that lay open to him, but to the light and life that existed in her eyes. He realized that there had never been anything he wanted more than her, including the Jedi Order. Technically, as a Jedi, he was not supposed to _want_ anything for himself. All was to be given to the service. And now, as he had given of himself for millions of faceless beings, Padmé was ready to give of herself, just for him.

She shuddered slightly as he looked down upon her. The intensity of his gaze was both frightening and insatiably erotic.

"Padmé," he sighed.

"Please, Obi-Wan."

She did not demand, nor did she beg. It was a confirmation, giving him the right to proceed.

He moved in between her legs, hovering for many moments. For a fleeting instant Padmé marveled at the strength and endurance it must have taken for him to achieve such a feat. But her thoughts were soon swept away by the feeling of his erection gently brushing against her clit once again.

It was like nothing she had ever known, every nerve on fire. So intense was the feeling that she could barely hear his voice. With concern, he said, "I don't know if you've ever been with a man before Padmé . . . but this may be slightly painful for a moment."

Then he kissed her, slowly and gently, mirroring his approach as he entered her. There was a sudden "pop" felt by them both and he quickly stopped his movement.

"I'm okay," she smiled at him, "really."

Their pace was slow at first, luxurious, each getting used to the rhythm and feel of their lovemaking. This most intimate of contacts made them both even more sensitive to the feelings of the other. The Force surrounded them and through it, each could sense the desires and love of the other.

He was the most considerate of lovers. Thanks to his Jedi powers, no part of her went untouched. Hands that could not be seen caressed her hot, eager flesh. His thrusts began to increase in speed, her hips meeting him with each one to pull him deeper. They let go completely, giving themselves to the moment. Nothing else mattered.

She kissed him hungrily, tears sliding down her cheeks; the frustration that had been building in the past six years finally finding release. It was like nothing she could have dreamed. And it wasn't just physical. In being with him, in being with Obi-Wan, she had discovered herself. She was more than just a Senator and no longer a child; she was a beautiful, vibrant woman.

And it was the same for him. The Jedi were placed in a high position by the non-Force users around them. They were more then mere men or women. For the whole of his life Obi-Wan had not realized that he was a man. But now he knew the truth. In being with Padmé, he learned that he was not just a Jedi Knight. In giving himself to her he was vulnerable; he became human.

Their climax came simultaneously, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over them.


	7. Chapter 7

The sun rose over the city of Theed as it did every morning. But, somehow, _this_ morning was different; the light of dawn seemed brighter, the sounds outside clearer and the morning air, fresher. How long it would last was an entirely different matter. There was a storm lurking, just over the horizon, and when it would break only the Gods knew.

Both Obi-Wan and Padmé had been awake for some time. They remained silent, content to be wrapped in the arms of the other. The next words to be spoken would, undoubtedly bring pain. And neither wished to be the first to break the peace they had sought for so long.

Obi-Wan looked down at the lady in his arms. He loved her, truly he did. And, he could feel, she loved him too.

They dressed in silence, a feeling of solemnity permeating the room. The weather outside, in the world beyond, had changed dramatically. No longer bright and hopeful, the sky began to mirror the mood within. Clouds had gathered and, as Obi-Wan began to pack his belongings, rain, light and hushed, covered the city.

Padmé, her political stature and demeanor returned, sat stony-faced on the sofa in the living-area. Rustling sounds from the bedroom (drawers opening and closing, clothes being folded and packed) reached her ears. And with the sound came a pang of sadness that held her heart in an icy grip.

Dark brown outer robe wrapped tightly around him, and lightsaber fastened securely at his hip, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi surveyed the room. The meager belongings (as was the way of the Order) were packed, the area was spotless, and all looked exactly as it had when he had arrived one week ago. _Almost as if I had never been here at all_, he thought glumly.

It pained him to leave this place, to leave _her_. And as he entered the sitting room, travel carrier in hand, the Jedi felt a painful pressure in his chest which made it difficult to breathe. She was seated on the sofa, her back to him, wearing the same gown she had the previous night.

Feet heavy and head lowered, Obi-Wan walked around the sofa and sat next to her. "Padmé," he began slowly, "There's something I need to tell you." Though he spoke with confidence, the fact that he still could not meet her eyes, revealed the turmoil within.

"We've been through a lot, you and I. Whatever it is, you can tell me," she replied with deep sincerity.

A mournful sigh escaped his mouth, "I thought a lot last night . . . as I held you, asleep in my arms. I went to sleep prepared to give it all up for you." If she had been standing, Padmé surely would have toppled over, so heavy was the weight of his statement.

"If we were _truly_ meant to be together nothing, not the Senate, not the Jedi Order, would be able to keep us apart. The truth is, Padmé, there is another reason we can't be together. I don't know why yet, but the two of us are meant for something else . . . I can _feel_ it. Despite the fact that I . . . love you." With great difficulty, the Knight finally looked into her eyes, deep sadness written on every line of his face. "And I _do_ love you, Padmé. Very much."

Tears threatened to escape her eyes as she listened to his confession. Though she couldn't explain it either, Padmé knew he spoke the truth. With that, came another truth to be acknowledged and dealt with. It had been easy to deny her feelings as a crush for the past six years. But after last night? . . . Last night had changed everything.

A single tear slid down her cheek. "I love you too . . . And I know also that what you said, about our destiny, is the truth . . . I just wish we had more time."

Obi-Wan's hand moved up to brush away the renegade teardrop and his smile warmed her heart. "I, M'Lady, am nothing but grateful for the time that we did have . . . our meeting last week, after all these years, was not a coincidence. Through the Force, nothing happens by accident."

"I know . . . I feel it too."

"I want you to remember that, despite our past, you will always be dear to me. A dear friend . . . I'll always be there for you Padmé."

"You can be sure of the same from me, Obi-Wan . . . I hope you know that."

Padmé and Obi-Wan walked together through the gates of the palace to the transport platform where a lone Jedi Starfighter waited to take the Jedi back to Coruscant. There was no dramatic, tearful goodbye. The Knight and the Lady shared a deep embrace, which said more that words ever could. Their embrace, their connection, was beyond lovers, past even friendship. Theirs were connected souls. And, were they never to meet again, _that_ fact would never change.

Before stepping onto the platform Padmé handed him a folded slip of paper and, with it, a single rose. It was pink, from the palace gardens, native to her planet. Lifting the flower up, Obi-Wan could smell _her_. Not just the rose, but the faintest hint of the waterfalls of Theed. Her unique scent, one he would never forget.

He then turned his attention to the paper. "What's this?"

"It's very important that you read that, okay? Wait until you break orbit."

Sparkling blue-green eyes met those of chocolate brown, brimming with tears. "I promise."

Obi-Wan was granted permission by Theed authorities to leave the planet. After waving to Senator Amidala, now joined on the platform by Sio Bibble and several other stuffy dignitaries, he ignited the engines and made his way skyward. Once securely attached to his hyperdrive ring, the Jedi put his astromech droid in charge of the piloting and, with trembling hands opened the note from Padmé . . .

_Dearest Obi-Wan _

_There is something that I must tell you about the dream I had. Something I was afraid to disclose until now._

_If what I experienced was, in fact, a vision of things to come I could not let you leave without you knowing this._

_I had told you that there were two warriors fighting a great battle, with fire all around them._

_But what I didn't tell you, and what I know pray you will take to heart and remember, is that one of the warriors was you._

_I still don't know what it means, but I fear for you. Please, remember my words. Just in case._

_I love you._

_Padme_


	8. Epilogue

Seven years later, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi sits in a storage closet, a stowaway in the personal Noobian starship of Senator Amidala. Just as he knew she would, Padmé was about to lead him to his fallen Padawan. He cringed inwardly as he thought of that word: "fallen." Though he had to keep hope, he knew in his heart that Anakin was, indeed, lost.

It hurt him to do what he knew he must. Killing Anakin would not only pain _him_, but it would also hurt Padmé . . . the woman he still loved. How could he take life from the one who had helped give life to Padmé's child?

The ship turned suddenly and began to make its descent. Within his soul, Obi-Wan could feel the fire without. The lava of Mustafar, a heaven for the dark. Only now, with the starship falling rapidly did the Master remember Padmé's words from a lifetime before. Written in a delicate hand and delivered with a single, pink Noobian Rose.

From within the deep folds of his dark brown outer robe, Obi-Wan pulled a rose. It was old and dry now, kept from crumbling by the Force that surrounded it. Still, even now, the faintest fragrance of her remained.

"I'm sorry Padmé."


End file.
